The Mysterious Musician
by Shirkaia
Summary: ' "Malfoy? [D]o you know who played the piano right now? [...] Someone you know?", questioned Harry [...]. "He is very important to me, but... I love him..." ' (extract from story, NOT slash, is supposed to be humor)


_Hi, this is my first published story and probably the first one I ever properly finished. I would appreciate reviews and constructive criticism, for example when you find a mistake, tell me so I can fix it. I wouldn't be offended by something like that._

 _This story is_ not _slash even though the summary might make it seem like that. You will see what I mean when you get to the end._

 _In my opinion it could play in any year._

 ** _Warning: makes use the word fuck (twice I think)_**

 ** _Disclaimer: only the plot belongs to me and I'm only making self-confidence and virtual cookies with this._**

 _Have fun reading!_

~ Shirkaia

~~HP~~

Harry Potter was wandering the halls of Hogwarts again. He didn't have anything to do since homework was done, Quidditch was done and his female best friend Hermione "bookworm" Granger was in a _mood_ again.

He was just stepping of a staircase onto the landing on the fourth floor when he heard a faint noise coming from an abandoned classroom a bit down the hall and spontaneously decided to investigate. Surely it would be much more interesting than more books.

As he got closer the noise morphed into faint music, a piano probably, and it sounded kind of sad.

Harry didn't know what to do. The Mysterious Musician would most likely prefer to be alone, judging by the atmosphere.

On the other hand it sounded really, really good and Harry wanted to know who could play like that.

The decision was taken from him when the music broke of abruptly and he decided that something must have happened.

Immediately he took the last several steps left to the door and opened it.

"Malfoy?", he asked when he saw the blond Slytherin crouching on the floor in the left back corner of the classroom. Harry thought he might have cried, though he couldn't sure as the boy had turned away the second he had recognised him, hiding any possible tear tracks.

"Go away, Potter", said the boy, but Harry didn't move.

"Malfoy", he said and motioned towards the pristine white piano standing in the middle of the room, "do you know who played the piano just now?"

Malfoy didn't answer, just tucked himself further into his corner.

"Someone you know?", questioned Harry, but he stayed silent.

Finally, when Harry had just decided to leave the Slytherin to his wallowing in self-pity, Malfoy said, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper: "He is very important to me, but... I love him..."

Then he suddenly had his wand out and the door slammed close in front of Harry who had never really stepped into the room.

And so Harry Potter had found a new mission to cure his boredom. He would find The Mysterious Musician and listen to him play again... Maybe he even had gossip or something like blackmail material on Malfoy... Since Malfoy loved the guy... Probably had told him a lot... And seemed heartbroken, so the guy might be willing to share...

Saint Potter spend the next month and a half wandering the fourth floor corridor where The Mysterious Musician had played to listen for signs of him coming back and of course trying find out his identity by discreetly observing various suspicious persons and interrogating a diversity of gossips to find information.

... He didn't have any luck.

So when one day he passed the classroom of The Mysterious Musician and heard someone play he silently walked up to the door and cautiously proceeded to pry said door open inch by inch.

All caution was thrown into the wind when he saw who was playing and he threw the door open so that it forcefully impacted the wall.

"Malfoy! You utter prick! I can't believe you fucking lied to me!"

He really couldn't believe it.

Malfoy laughed. It was a girlish laugh, but that wasn't what was bothering Harry. He just bloody laughed.

Harry continued to swear at Malfoy, but he froze and gaped at him when the blond pureblood asshole fell of the piano stool still laughing and giggling like some girl.

"Di-didn't lie to you, Po-Potter!", the Slytherin finally managed to force out, breathing heavily but at least not laughing anymore.

"Don't fuck with me, Malfoy! You said you loved the guy!", Harry shot back after a few moments of silence.

"But, Potter, I _do_ love myself. You really _are_ daft if you haven't noticed _that_!"

The end!


End file.
